I take a step closer to him, but he does not back down. “I challenged you in front of a crowded room. In front of your opponent.”

“Yes,” he snaps, his words pointed, “the crown prince challenged me, out of the entire Royal Guard, and I succeeded, before the king and queen and most of the nobility. Your cruelty surely lacks for boundaries, my lord.”

“Enough.”

He goes still, but it’s not so dark that I can’t see the anger in his eyes.

Twenty minutes ago I told Coale that I prefer honest discourse, and now I long to order Grey to shut his mouth and return to his duties.

At the same time, it is oddly satisfying to argue. After season upon season of cajoling women and listening to Grey’s quiet deference, it feels good to push—and have someone push back.

“I was not referring solely to that one incident.” My voice is tight.

“If you wish to analyze every perceived slight,” he says, “by all means, proceed. But if you intend to convince the Queen of Syhl Shallow that we have her forces outnumbered, now seems a poor time to become mired in uncertainty.”

I have nothing to say to that. The weight of my failures is too heavy.

“Allow me to remind you of another moment,” he says. “When I believe your memories may differ from mine.”

I do not look at him. “Go ahead.”

“I am referring to the first season,” he says. “When your creature first terrorized the castle.”

“When I slaughtered my family.” My voice turns rough. “I remember it well.”

“There were few of us left,” he says. “So many lives lost—especially the royal family—”

“Silver hell, Grey, I remember. What is your point?”

He is quiet for a moment. “We thought it would break you.” He pauses. “It did not. You took action to protect the kingdom. Your first order was to seal the borders. You sent word to each city to govern from within.”

I do not understand how he can speak of my failures as if they are victories. “It was all I could do.”

“You asked why I keep my oath. In that moment, I never meant it more.”

“I do not deserve your loyalty, Grey.”

“Deserved or not, you have it.”

I have nothing to say to that. The night air seems to wait for my response, but nothing I come up with is sufficient.

Grey takes a step back. He sets his empty stein in the snow. “We have been here for some time. I should walk the property.”

I nod. “As you say.”

When he moves away, I think of one of the first things he said. I was never alone. The nights were never this silent.

“Commander,” I say.

He stops and turns, waiting for an order.

I have none to give. “Wait.” I set my own mug in the snow. “I’ll walk with you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

HARPER

We survive the night without incident, but Rhen calls for me early. Now that he has a plan in mind, he’s a man on a mission. With a promise to send a wagon back to the inn for Freya and her children, Rhen and Grey have the horses saddled and waiting before I’ve even finished lacing my boots.

By the time we’re on horseback, the sky stretches blue and cold overhead, with just enough wind to nip at my cheeks as we canter through the snow. We fly across the open ground, Grey galloping from hill to hill to act as lookout. By the time we reach the final crest, I’m relieved that Grey calls for us to stop—until I see that he’s concerned.

“A man waits at the tree line, my lord. He appears to be alone.”

I look past him. There’s a man with a large wagon and two draft horses, but they’re too far to see much detail.

“Good,” says Rhen. “I asked him to wait for us here. He is a porter and we’ll have need of his wagon.”

Grey frowns. “You know this man?”

“You do as well. You gave him your bag of coins.” He glances at me. “If I recall correctly, you damaged his cargo?”

The one-armed man with all the crates. “When did you ask him to wait for us?”

“After your lecture on whether I know how to do something nice.”

When Rhen rode off and left Grey to escort me to the inn. “But … why?”

Rhen’s expression is piercing. “I asked him to wait so he can distribute the castle’s endless food among the people. I’m sure he’ll assist with fetching Freya as well, if I request it.”

I open my mouth. Close it.

Rhen doesn’t wait for a response. He wheels his horse and canters down the hill.

We learn the man’s name is Jamison. His shocked bewilderment from yesterday is gone and he seems pleased to have a service to offer. His horses look better fed than he does, and I like that he threw a blanket over their backs while he was waiting. Rhen gives him the same story he gave Coale, how the enchanted castle was cursed by the wicked queen of Syhl Shallow, then asks the man to keep his confidence.

When we finally ride through the woods, Rhen and I lead, followed by Jamison’s wagon and Grey behind.

We’re walking now, so I look over at Rhen and keep my voice low. “You keep asking people to keep this a secret. I think Coale and Evalyn really will, but you just met this guy. How do you know he won’t tell everyone about this?”

“My lady.” He glances over, looking genuinely startled. “I am counting on them telling everyone.”

I feel like I’ve missed something important. “So … wait.”

“Again, I must ask. Have you no sense of how gossip works?”

“You’re making it seem like a big secret so they will tell people?”

“Of course.” He looks at me like this shouldn’t be a surprise. “Do you truly think I would reveal genuine secrets in such a cavalier way?”

I clamp my mouth shut. No. I don’t. Everything he does is calculated. I should have figured this was no different.

“Are you ever reckless?” I ask.

“I was,” he says. “Once.”

Then we step out of the snow, into cursed warmth and dappled sunlight.

Jamison works hard. We’ve been carrying food out of the castle’s front hall for the past hour, and even one-handed, he makes quick work of loading everything into trunks and stacking his wagon. He was a little awestruck by the warmth in the air and the copious food—to say nothing of the music ringing through the castle. It’s sad that I’ve only been here for a few days and I’m already over it.

Jamison seems more shocked that Rhen and Grey work alongside him, bringing food up from the kitchens once the hall tables have been emptied.

I’m a little shocked that Rhen is helping, too. I’m not sure why—because I can’t see him lounging on a silk chaise, either. He just doesn’t strike me as the roll-up-your-sleeves type, but he did exactly that. He’s long since ditched the weapons and armor and his buckled jacket, and once packing turned to loading, he turned back the sleeves of his shirt. Seeing him in the sun with bare forearms and sweat on his brow makes my eyes want to linger.

I lock my eyes on the trunk in my hands and tell my brain to knock it off. There’s probably something calculated about all this, too. He probably hopes Jamison will spread word about what a swell guy he is.

Rhen sees me approaching and he turns to take the trunk.

“I’ve got it,” I say, but my voice is too quick. I might be blushing.

He steps back and extends a hand, giving way. “My lady.”

I heave the crate onto the back of the wagon, where Jamison waits to drag it into place. Rhen watches me the whole time. My blush goes nowhere.

Jamison grabs hold of the trunk. “Your Highness, if I may ask …”

Rhen finally looks away. “You may.”

“Do you fear providing enchanted food to your people?”

“I fear not feeding them more.”

My heart flutters, just the tiniest bit, and I have to remind myself that he does nothing without intention, that all of this is part of a plan. A means to an end. A good end, that will help his people, but a calculated effect nonetheless. He’s playing a role. Just like I am.

Jamison nods. “Yes, Your Highness.” He drags the trunk onto the wagon and deftly stacks it atop the others.

Grey emerges from the castle with another trunk and tosses it onto the back of the wagon as well, springing up to stack it himself. The only weapon he’s set aside is his sword. “I believe this is the last of it. For now.”

Jamison straightens and gives him a nod. “Commander. You have my thanks.”

“Don’t worry,” says Rhen. “Commander Grey likes to feel necessary.”

Grey pushes sweat-dampened hair off his forehead and says, “Commander Grey is going to regret saying that.”

Maybe it’s the shared purpose, but they seem different today. Less … something. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

The men jump off the back of the wagon, and Jamison latches it closed. “I will return with the Lady Freya by sundown, Your Highness.”

“Good,” says Rhen.

“Thank you,” I add.

Jamison gives me a short bow. “Yes, my lady. Of course.” He turns to Grey and offers a sharp salute. “Commander.” Then he turns away to head for the front of his wagon.